Repeat

Rain sun rain sun rain sun rain sun.  To someone with a dodgy zip on their waterproof, this has been very irritating.  Obviously we are talking about “me” here, not the bee thingy in the photo, which is definitely more photogenic than me fiddling with my anorak.  But then you wouldn’t have made that mistake, would you …….? Surely not!

Team Building

When visiting Marwood Hill Gardens the other day we, Max’s Dad and me, were greeted quite unexpectedly with “are you on the team building day?”  We looked at each other, both of us wondering which answer we should give.  Before committing myself I enquired “is there free cake?”.  It appears that this gave the game away.  “We are just here to go to the Plant Centre” MD explained.  “It doesn’t open until 11.00.”  So we had our own mini-bonding session.   We drank coffee, sans patisserie, and wandered the gardens admiring the planting, the bird life and talked about building a raft out of empty oil drums and planks of wood.  Then we went to the Plant Centre.  And, bizarrely, we didn’t buy anything.

This garden is always a joy, these agapanthus one of many highlights.

Six on Saturday – I made it in the end

I definitely wasn’t going to do a SoS this week, categorically not.  Then I relented, I changed my mind.  Which is par for the course.  Please bear this in mind if you are trying to persuade me to co-star with Hugh Jackman in a remake of Les Mis.

Here we are again, and which means so is the King of Prop-ing (if you say it right it does scan, you may have to practice or take my word for it), pop over to discover what is happening in the Kingdom of Prop.

Let us begin with Dahlia coccinea, grown from seed several years ago, and only now coming into flower.  All my dahlias stayed out last winter, with little if any protection.  This is not a boast.  My head is hung in shame.  And for this neglect I have been rewarded with sad plants that are blooming late.  Next year ….

Hibiscus syriacus

Secondly is an unnamed (names cost more) hibiscus, rescued from the bargain bin of a supermarket.  Most probably a cultivar of Hibiscus syriacus, it deserved better treatment.  I am yet undecided whether it will remain Chez Nous, or be adopted by one of my lovely clients.

agapanthus

Now an agapanthus, the old faithful who never fails to perform.  But all is not sweetness and light. Over winter it acts as a cosy hostel for the all especially delinquent snails in the neighbourhood.  As I am on to this ploy, they are gathered up and relocated, mainly to snail heaven.  If I am feeling particularly magnanimous they are put in the green bin where they go to ….. well who knows?!

Scabiosa 'Plum Pudding'

Next we have Scabiosa ‘Plum Pudding’, itself a rather unruly customer, lolling all over the place with little if any decorum.  Luckily the flowers are so ripstockingly wonderful, it is forgiven this lacking in the grace department.

sempervivum

How are we getting on?  Are we there yet?  Not quite.  Here is a little sempervivum.  It thrives on sun and neglect.  Double whammy.

Salvia 'Nachvlinder'

And finally we have Salvia ‘Nachtvlinder’ and friend.  I snapped away at this for a while, flowers dancing in the wind, bee holding on for dear life.  All the fun of the fair.

Another SoS under my belt.  And to think I wasn’t going to bother.  Thanks Your Propping Highness, until next time.

 

 

 

 

Albizia julibrissin f. rosea – Pink Persian Silk Tree

The Pink Persian Silk Tree in Max’s garden is past its best.  The snappily named Albizia julibrissin f. rosea is unmistakably in its second, or even third, flush of youth.  Last week, before the wind and wet rushed in and ruffled its tassels, it was in full finery.  Although many spent blooms litter the drive enough remain to make a spectacular display.  It has dropped perhaps two points on the Bloomin’ Marvellous Scale.  As this is scored out of one million, you must understand it is still quite impressive.  Slow to come into leaf, the flowers following on the foliage’s coat tails, this member of the pea family is a summer treat.  This afternoon one of the branches had dropped low enough for me to capture, at arm’s length and with a certain amount of winging it, one of its remaining flowers, alongside faded blooms and seed pods.  Just lovely.

Hairy Dhal – Better than it sounds

It is raining. Proper grown up rain. No wishywashy, dampen the odd leaf drizzle, but a full-on-soil-soaking-persistent downpour. Jubilation!

Hang on a minute, I was going to do some potting on at home today, that plan has been scuppered. I try to stay dry on my days off, there is enough soggy gardening at work. A free day, with no obligations or demands on my time, what a treat. How shall I use this precious time? I will put my feet up and watch the omnibus edition of Star Trek. That would be great. But the adverts are such a bore. I have a dedicated book to read during these mainly nauseating interludes, it is called my Advert Break Book. Brilliant eh?

Today I feel like a change. Perhaps I could cook something. We have Keralan fish curry for tea, as yet a virtual dish although I have faith it will become reality, I will made a dhal to go with it. I do love dhal. Then I could share my culinary experiences. It has been ages since we have done cooking!

The recipe is from the wonderful Hairy Bikers‘ book Great Curries, which luckily for them (and me) is not in contravention of the Trades Description Act. It is indeed full of great curries. Including this one. Which is actually an amalgam of two dhals. Needs did must. One day I had set my heart before realising that we were right out of red lentils (schoolgirl error), the shops were closed/too far away/I was in my pajamas and I really, really, really, really wanted dhal (laughable middle class problem). It was necessary to regroup and this was the result. As always, the real recipe, or approximation, is in normal font, my interpretation in italics.

All-in-one Split Pea Dhal mash-up with Masoor (Split Red Lentil) Dhal

Wash 300g split peas and then put in a pan with 1.2l of water and one teaspoon each of turmeric and garam masala.

I’ve only got 178g of split peas (distinct feeling of deja vu) so ask OH to buy some more when he get the Sunday papers. He tells me they are very difficult to find. I disagree. He returns triumphant. Mix the old and new which I am not sure is a good thing as a voice in my heads says they might cooks at different rates. Old ones a bit tougher. Hard luck. It is done. Pretty certain that the brown stuff in the unmarked jar is garam masala. Add to washed peas, water and turmeric. So far so good. Hope that is garam masala. Could be interesting.

Bring to the boil and skim off any scum that forms on the top.

All the spice seems to be at the top, so surely I will lose it if I “skim”? Make a token effort just to keep the HB lads happy.

Fry one onion in ghee or oil until pale golden brown.

Ghee? A step too far for OH and possibly the staff at the local Tescos, although I may be doing them a disservice. Stick to oil. Onion, no probs. Do a little more skimming. Nice word, unlike scum which although descriptive has a nasty feel about it. Popped in to see how Jean Luc was getting on, got a little distracted, onions dark bronze brown.

Turn heat down and grate in 15g ginger and 2 garlic cloves and cook for 2 minutes.

Cut piece of ginger, not enough, cut a bit more, still short, a slither and we are slightly over. No matter, once peeled it should be about right. Getting bored now. I hate grating ginger, even though I now have a swish Japanese grater, it doesn’t prevent nail filing incidents. Drop piece into hot pan several times, retrieve without burning fingers too badly. Use garlic crusher. Decide 3 garlic cloves would be better as we love it and I am a rebel. Oops forgot to turn heat down. Remove from heat completely and frantically scrape bottom of pan. No one will know.

Add 2 chopped medium tomatoes, half a teaspoon of salt and a whole plump green chilli, split up the side.

Add 3 chopped medium tomatoes (see above), half a teaspoon of salt and a whole plump green chilli. Cut the green stalky things out of the toms, does anyone else do that or am I just been finicky?

Stir for 5 minutes until tomatoes are soft, stirring often, and add to split peas.

Star Trek denouement imminent, turn heat up, stir for a couple of seconds and chuck it in with the juvenile dhal. Rush to find out that Data was not having a funny turn, due to the fact that he is an android he could sense the parasites that were sucking the blood from the rest of the Enterprise crew. Mind at rest now.

Loosely cover and simmer for 60-75 minutes until thick and soft, stirring regularly.

Set to simmer. After about 15 minutes realise I had forgotten to split the chilli. Poke about in the pan until I find the offending capsicum, then gleefully stab at it for a while.

Shortly after remember I had forgotten to set the timer. Last year my dog leapt off the top of the fridge, broke an ear and no longer rings. This is a disadvantage when you are a timer. I have a new one. An enigmatic cat. I love him, but not quite as much as the original. While we are waiting you might as well take a look.

Stir , rest, stir, rest, stir. Still didn’t set the timer, too late now. Stir, bit liquidy still, perhaps I should leave the lid off for a while. Stir, hungry now, toast crumpets. Notice the fairies have not yet done the washing up, do washing up.

Scoff crumpets, cambozola and tomato since you ask. Do more washing up. Forget to stir. Doing plopping lava impersonation as warned by HBs. Turn off. A little scraping. Taste. Yum. Taste again. May have repeated several times just to make sure seasoning is correct. Well that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Time passes.

Nearly tea time. Gently re-heat dhal.

Just before serving add Tadka. Fry 1/2 teaspoon each of chilli flakes, cummin seed and black mustard seed in oil for 15 seconds, stirring constantly. Do not burn. Add pinch of asafoetida and stir into dhal.

Google Tadka. “Indian tempering technique often used as a finishing touch to dhal”. Great. Must focus now as cat does not do seconds even if I remember to set him. Measure out ingredients. Meditate. Get mini-frying pan ready. Tips up but I catch it. Add everything except asofoetida. Stir and count. Manage not to get distracted. I am a yogic master. Ninja cook. No time to gloat. Sprinkle last ingredient, the mysterious asofoetida. Stir into dhal. Taste. Double yum.

dhal

After all that palaver, and more, we have arrived at our destination, dhal, fish curry, rice and nan. All we need is for someone to eat it. That is the easy bit.

There are thousands of different recipes for dhal, but this one comes highly recommended, not by a bon vivant or food critic, but by a gardener with a good appetite. Give it a go, although it is possibly best to follow the chaps’ recipe rather than mine. It makes a good amount, you could always half the quantities but why bother with all those calculations, it is even better the next day and the day after……

The crumpets were good too. You can probably master them on your own.

Six on Saturday – Gifts

I bunked off last week.  There was a very good excuse.  As no one seemed to notice I will continue unabashed.  I will bank the good excuse for another time.

Here we are again, Six on Saturday, the pyramid selling concern started by the President of Prop Towers, The Prop.  This tower should not be confused with Malory, Fawlty or indeed Trump.  God forbid.  There is oodles more intrigue, much better customer service and well, the least I can say is, a better haircut.

The weather has changed.  The rain arrived last night and brought with him a rowdy party of hail, thunder, lightning and gales.  He would have been more welcome on his own.

My first contribution is a flowering sedum.  When my OH appeared with this in hand I humoured him, “very nice, dear” I said, whilst barely raising an eye from my How to Crochet a Rocket Ship book.   When I saw the flower I repeated the sentiment, the difference being this time I meant it.

Lilium 'Casa Blanca'

Next we have Lilium ‘Casa Blanca’, both fragrant and fabulous.  A gift from the generous and kind, cunningly disguised as a grumpy, old man who will probably be even more grumpy now I have said nice things about him, Mr K.  Thanks, they are indeed a wonder to behold and sniff.

petunia

Just as I love tigers but wouldn’t particularly want one in my garden, petunias and me are not a happy gardening match.  They are sticky.  They make me go icky.  I like to look at them, admire them in other people’s gardens as long as I don’t have to work there.  My lovely neighbour gave me a pot of petunias for looking after her cats.  I smiled and accepted them as enthusiastically as I could muster.  I admit they are rather striking, attractive even.  A tiger would have been nice.

Alonsoa warscewiczii 'Scarlet'Several years ago I grew  Alonsoa warscewiczii ‘Scarlet’, the mask flower.  A magnificent colour, tough and persistent, it even over wintered for a couple of years.  Then a harsh one and it failed and drifted out of my consciousness.  In mine and Nancy’s “all seed packet 50p” frenzy at the local garden centre I picked up a packet.   Now I am rather pleased I had practiced my Boston crab.

Cautleya spicata 'Robusta'

Now we have Cautleya spicata ‘Robusta’, a member of the ginger family, that was donated by the lovely Phlomis Phlo.  It has been battered by scorch and now rain and wind so is perhaps not looking its best.  The fetching drip on the end of its nose brings a little pathos to the picture don’t you think?

dahlia seedling

And finally a dahlia seedling, whose parentage is a little vague.  Possibly Dahlia coccinea with a contribution from some passing Lothario.   Dark leaved, tangerine veined petals and a central boss of ginger, a beautiful love child.

Thanks Mr P, happy holidays to you.  Who knows what next week will bring?  Let us hope it is all good things.

An Interesting Story

Some days toddle along, nothing particularly notable happens, nothing even close to news worthy occurs.  Most days actually.  Don’t get me wrong, no complaints here.  I am quite happy with my meandering life.  When I get home and recount my days in minutae my OH often nods off “was that one of Gill’s interesting stories?” he asks when he wakes.

Brace yourselves folks, there is one coming up.

The day began well.  A bacon buttie well.  Yes that good.  It was warm and welcome on my arrival at The Bun’s.  Mr B took one look and sighed one of his sighs.  I think it meant “you deserve that sandwich, take your time and enjoy it”.  Not absolutely certain though.

And the day progressed well.  Mrs B harvested some cucumbers from medusa’s nest, once known as a greenhouse (I had to pull her out twice by her feet) and bravely retrieved a few good ‘uns.  She kindly gifted me a brace which I placed on the grass by my tools.  It soon became apparent that someone else had designs on them.

Bobbie, who I had previously considered a friend and ally, ran off with one of them.  Mr B tried to fob me off with “she is looking after it for you until you leave” although I wasn’t completely convinced.  The slobber might have added a certain je ne sais quoi, but I decide to give it a miss.

Next I had a rendevous in the lovely village of Mortehoe, meeting on the lychgate steps outside the church.  A friend, who has yet to be named but on reflection I think Dahlia Dora will do the job nicely, is on holiday for the week.  Her family were on the beach and we had a couple of hours pencilled in for catching up.  As I was a little early I took the opportunity to wander the graveyard, examining the headstones, reading names and ages and years.   Although the village was busy I was alone in my contemplation of those that lay below.

Then coffee and scones and cheese and much gossip and laughter.  And even plants to admire.  Another day with nothing to report.  And I am very happy for that.

 

 

Return

I’ve been away for a few days.  And very nice it was too.  However, it is hard to leave your garden in the midst of the growing season, drought or no drought.  Actually I’m not sure anyone has officially said the “D” word yet, but it won’t be long, mark my words.  The day before we left I watered everything well and shuffled pots into shadier places.  Then I crossed my fingers.  And it worked.  On my return all was well.  On the cusp, perhaps, but fine.  Today I have repeated Thursday’s irrigation.  No one blinked.

This daylily, one of the magnificent Pollies Daylilies seedlings, was revving up to flower before we left.  Kindly, it waited until today to bloom, and very pleased I am too.